I remember grandmother vividly. Her warm smile illuminated her surrounding. She was Indian descent with high cheeks, and soft squa-like steps. I remember her tears, being stereotyped, rejected, and branded a mixed-breed, but through it all her control to voice resounded songs of praise to God, that lifted our souls from dry bones in the valley to arrayed mountain peaks.
An industrious lady whose caring hands scene picturesque bounties on her pantry shelves gathered from elite fruit and vegetable vines. They put inflation to shame, filled our bellies nutritionally and banished all welfare distributions.
I can say that her, caring, counseling, chaperoning, comforting efforts, molded our lives for the joy of love. Time claimed her pilgrimage, and she walked slowly with time through an open gate.